


Lost in the Light

by littlebark



Series: Linette Trevelyan [4]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, SO MUCH FLUFF, and deflecting serious stuff with humour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 01:01:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3432266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlebark/pseuds/littlebark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Waking a very sleepy Inquisitor ends up with much better results than he could have hoped for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost in the Light

It was mid-morning and there was still a very much asleep Inquisitor in his bed.

He couldn't help but steal glances up the ladder to his loft, straining his ears to hear her footsteps above him. She had ridden in late from the Exalted Plains, eyes red with the lack of sleep and yet she'd made certain to come see him. She'd even lasted a whole five minutes of conversation before she began to nod off, until finally her head lolled to the side and she was asleep.

Lucky for him they'd already made their way up the ladder. He had no idea how he would've managed to get her up into his bed. Or Maker forbid, all the way to her chambers. Though he knew she preferred her quarters ( _I mean, seriously Cullen. You can't possibly like the draft thanks to that bloody hole in the roof),_ more often than not they spent the night in his makeshift room/office, where he wasn't more than a couple seconds away from his soldiers.

"Commander-" one of those said soldiers all but hollered as he banged the door to his office open.

"Shhhh!" he snarled, his eyes flickering upstairs. When there still wasn't any noise, he spun his glare to the soldier who had noticed where his gaze had gone and was _smirking_ slightly.

Maker's breath, but he hated gossip.

"Report," Cullen snapped, holding out his hand for the report the soldier carried.

The soldier stood at attention, his voice barely above a whisper now. "One of the requests the Inquisitor dropped off before she... retreated for the night, was for manpower to rebuild a bridge in the Exalted Plains, so they can gain access to a part of the region. There is also the matter of a collapsed cave entrance not to far from the bridge. Sister Nightingale wanted me to bring these matters to your attention right away, sir."

"Of course she did," muttered Cullen, knowing full well that Leliana was completely aware of where their leader was currently located. "Very well, I'll take a look at this and see who we can dispatch. A small crew should be able to handle this. Tell her I will have a response for her shortly."

"Commander," the soldier saluted, the small smile still on his face as he stole a look up the ladder while he walked out.

Cullen groaned as he sank back into his chair, trying to ignore the building headache behind his eyes. He let out a shaky breath, his tea sitting on his desk, untouched. This was his duty, the way he was useful to the Inquisition. Never ending paperwork, requests that sometimes drove him insane, insufferable nobles who thought that donating money and time to their cause meant that they Inquisition owed them. Never mind that they were saving their hides, righting all the wrongs in Thedas.

A wave of nausea rolled through him. He took a deep breath, something so very Linette-like it nearly made him smile. How many times had he seen her take a deep breath before addressing those nobles? She may have been born into that world, knew how to navigate it with an ease that could put Josephine to shame sometimes, but he knew the Game drove her mad.

The sun was well above them now and still no noise from above. A prickle of unease joined the nausea now. She had been asleep what, fourteen, sixteen hours? Mages needed sleep in order to recharge their connection to the Fade, he knew this better than anyone. But too much sleep was dangerous, it was extra time in which a demon-

No. He slammed down on that train of thought, hard.

_You left the templars, but do you trust mages? Could you think of me as anything more?_

She had been gone for nearly two weeks, helping a Dalish clan in the Plains and chasing down fool errands that could have been done by their forces but for some reason she did them herself _(I'm right_ ** _there_** _, Cullen. Why bother coming all the way back here to tell you lot what needs to be done when I'm right_ ** _there_**?). Camping out on stiff bed rolls may not have given her the rest she needed, and as much as she was burning her mana on all they needed her to do, she needed good proper sleep.

With this, Cullen stood and stretched. He would take a walk, hoping the fresh air would clear away some of the nausea. He paused, and when he still heard nothing but a soft sigh from upstairs, he walked out into the daylight.

*

"Commander, don't you look like dreadful today!" Dorian called as Cullen stepped into the kitchen, "I would have thought that you'd look more refreshed after a night of having your love back in your arms."

Cullen raised an eyebrow, "I'm surprised you're up and about, Dorian. You all got back late. Figured you would still be asleep."

"Asleep? Why, it's midday!" the mage laughed and quirked an eyebrow at him, "but I do know a certain someone who does _love_ her sleep. Almost as much as I love my drinks, I would say, but that seems unfair. I do so very much love my drinks."

"Has she been getting her sleep?" he asked, feeling foolish, "out on the field, I mean."

Dorian shrugged, "as much as one can while roughing it out. You know how those bed rolls are - you may as well be sleeping on the floor. She does grumble about them when she is getting ready to sleep, mentions her excellent bed back in Skyhold more than once. Fails to mention her rather handsome sleeping companion though. I wonder why."

A blush crept up his neck, causing Dorian to smirk. Cullen barely glanced at him before he turned to a servant, asking for a bit to eat, “It’s been several hours. I’m just…”

“Anxious to see the woman you love? Or worried that she-”

“Anxious,” he said firmly, fixing Dorian with a glare, “she’s working harder than any of us. I can’t pretend to know what she’s going through.”

Shrugging, Dorian said, “she’s the Inquisitor. The only one who can fix this - though she does tend to forget that she has people to help her with the burden. Hero type people do that, you know.”

“I know,” he muttered, thinking of other women who had shouldered the weight of the world. They had not had the happy endings they had hoped for. His stomach rolled again, thinking of Linette. “She asks you to come with her the most-”

“It’s my good looks, charm, endless knowledge… take your pick,” a bit of liquor went into Dorian’s tea as he said this, the sweet smell reaching Cullen. His stomach rolled again in protest. “I don’t know why I am the Inquisitor’s first pick, Commander. I only know that I will protect her with my life if need be.”

Smiling slightly, Cullen said, “that’s a rather serious statement, Dorian. I hear ‘you are too pretty to die’.”

It was Dorian’s turn to blush, his tan skin turning a shade darker, “my my, she does gossip. And she does go on about how much she hates it.”

“She cares about you, deeply. You are like family to her.”

Dorian looked up at him, eyes narrowed. “She told you about that too. Fine. That’s the last time I tell her anything of importance.”

“Liar,” grinning, Cullen shook his head, “you care about her to much to not share with her.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” with a cup in one hand and a bottle in the other, Dorian looked back at Cullen before saying, “it may make it easier to wake the beast if you have some food ready for her when you do. She does love her bacon.”

*

Feeling foolish, Cullen knocked on his office door while he held a basket of breakfast food on one hand. When there was no response he pushed inside and sighed. He frowned at the ladder and then at the basket, deciding that he just needed to be _very careful_ about climbing up. Hooking the basket in the crook of his arm and grumbling about the absurdness of it, he climbed up.

His heart stopped as he spotted her, as it often did whenever his eyes landed on her. She was on her belly, mouth hanging slightly open while her hair lay around her like a halo, small strands of black hair rising and falling with every breath she took. Limbs were scattered every which way and she had managed to curl the blanket around her nonetheless.

Chuckling softly he set the basket on the floor and approached the bed, crouching when he reached the bedside. Even this far away, he could feel the heat coming off her. Linette always did tend to run warmer than most people, forever joking that it was the fiery temper she claimed to have. He had yet to see it.

He hoped he never would.

“My dear Inquistor! Wake up, my darling! We have-”

Had he not had years of templar training, he would have never moved fast enough to dodge the _ball of fire_ she had just thrown in his direction. Cullen fell on his rear, mouth gaping as he stared at the now scorched wall. Dumbfounded, he whirled to face Linette who had managed to prop herself up on one elbow while she blew hair away from her face, one arm still flung out.

“Li _nette_ ,” he managed to choke out after the fourth or fifth attempt, his throat still a little parched. “What in Maker’s name-”

“Oh,” she said, finally shoving her bangs out of her eyes, “it’s you.”

“It’s… wait, _what_? You just… Linette, that was fire. _Real_ fire.”

“Well I’d be a bloody awful mage if it was _fake_ fire,” she groaned as she sunk back into the pillows, pulling the covers over her head, “go away. I’m going back to sleep.”

Cullen blinked, looking up at the figure on the bed. “You just threw a fireball at me.”

“Only a little one. It wasn't going to hit you, it was more of a warning.”

“ _Linette_ ,” he snarled, adrenaline finally kicking in. Surging to his feet, he reached for the blanket and pulled it away. His jaw dropped. She was wearing absolutely nothing, tanned skin all but glowing in the morning light. “Maker _preserve me_. Linette.”

She flipped over to face him, scowling. “I just wanted to sleep in. For once.”

Cullen forced himself to meet her narrowed eyes, his face a furious shade of red, “you did. A lot. I brought you… breakfast. Over there. Linette-”

“I just want to sleep,” she said in a voice he might consider a whine, “Andraste’s dimpled buttcheeks, Cullen. Sleep. In a real bed.”

Because he had just seen _someone’s_ dimpled buttcheeks -and they certainly hadn't been Andraste’s, thank the Maker for _that_ \- he cleared his throat and said, “you had clothes on. Earlier. When we went to bed… and when I woke up…didn't you?”

She raised an eyebrow at him, “I got warm.”

“I...I see.”

Sighing, she pushed herself upright. Rolling her brown eyes at him, now filled with mischief instead of annoyance, she wrapped the blanket around herself and smirked, “you don’t usually get _this_ flustered, Commander.”

“Are you sure?” he murmured as he sat on the bed, leaning forward to touch his forehead to hers. “I do seem to lose my ability to form words around you.”

She let out a laugh, pulling his face forward to meet his lips, “hi. Sorry about your wall.”

He glanced backwards at the black scorch mark, smoke still coming off it. “You threw a fireball at me.”

“I did. Maybe you’ll warn Sera and she’ll stop thinking it’s _hilarious_ to wake up the Inquisitor with the phrase ‘rise and shine’ being hollered at the top of her lungs.”

“But a _fire-_ ”

Linette raised her eyebrows, mouth set into a line. “You’ll also have to tell my _father_ that story. Maker, but he’ll be glad it was healing magic and not fire that manifested first.” She saw the way his eyes widened in understanding, the way his shoulders set. “Once a templar…”

“It’s not… I didn't know.”

She snorted, “not a lot of people _did_. That was rather the point.”

Silence fell around them, and for a moment he wondered just how much they hadn't told each other yet. How he hoped they would have _years_ together, giving each other stories of their pasts.

Knew there would be some stories he would _never_ share if he could help it.

Tucking a black strand of hair behind her ear, he kissed her again before muttered, “hungry?”

Her stomach let out a growl in response, and she grinned. “If you tell me you have bacon in there…”

“I do.”

A content sigh escaped her, “my hero.”

 _Perhaps it is this easy_ , he thought to himself as he reached for the basket and ignored the shaking of his hands. _Perhaps it could truly be this easy._

“Cullen?”

He looked over his shoulder, lost in the light of her smile. It left him breathless, heart racing and dizzy headed. “I… yes?”

“I’m really glad you’re not a templar anymore. Throwing the fireball at someone with Maker given abilities seems like it would have earned me a smite.”

She looked so terribly sheepish that he laughed. He crossed the room, still grinning. “A smite at the very least.”

Her hands rested on his for a second, and her eyes scanned his. He knew what she was looking for, tried not to let the irritation show on his face. The cool feel of healing magic flowed through him and he couldn't quite help the briskness of his voice when he said, “save your strength, Inquisitor.”

If she noticed his note, she did not show it. Instead she reached into the basket and shrugged easily, “it was a small rejuvenation spell. Hardly taxing at _all_. Not after all the things we've gone through out there.”

This was enough to have shame crash into him. Bowing his head, he took his head into his hands and let out a steady breath.

“Has it been bad?”

Her voice was soft, the same voice he had heard her use on patients. He didn't try to hide the shudder that went through him, “I fear I am not strong enough for this.”

She leaned forward, placing her hand on his cheek, “you are.”

“I wish I had your faith,” Cullen admitted.

Linette smiled at him, one corner of her mouth tilting up a bit more than the other, “they don’t call me the Herald of Andraste for nothing.” She bit into the bacon, chewing thoughtfully, “I can’t pretend to understand what you’re going through… but I’ll do whatever I can do help you.”

“You do,” he said it much too quickly, eager to reassure her, “if it weren't for you-”

“If it weren't for me, you would still be the same man whose ideals and values have gotten this far in life. No matter what he’s gone through, he’s come out a better man,” it came out of her in a rush, words like a balm on his broken soul.

He closed his eyes, taking in her words and sighing, “it’s hard to believe it, sometimes. There are some days it feels like…”

“Like the world is falling apart around you,” she whispered, tracing circles on his hand. “You’re not back there. You’re never going to be go back to that.”

“I know… I _know_.”

Eyes full of unshed tears for him, she turned her gaze to their hands. What she wouldn't give to take away his pain, make it her own. She had no idea how to begin to heal this hurt, this pain of this magnitude. “What’s the happiest memory you have?”

“You,” he didn't even think about it, and he met the surprise in her eyes with skepticism, “surely you knew that.”

Linette tilted her head, yet another smile playing on her lips. “Why, Commander. The Herald is supposed to be _humble_. You wouldn't want me to go around and let all the good deeds go to my head.”

“You are more than just a _good deed_ ,” he said, unwilling to let her push this away, “you are the happiest thing I can remember. It’s never as bad when you’re here.”

“Then go back to that,” she suggested, leaning up for a kiss. Lingering for a moment or two more than necessary, “when it gets real bad. Take a walk, just for a couple minutes. I would think the battlements would be a good place to go and clear your head. Since that is where you made _me_ the happiest.”

He blinked, golden eyes full of love for this woman he did not deserve. “Linette… I… thank you.”

“It’s what I’m here for,” she said simply.

How simple she always made it seem, shrugging off the burden this life was constantly throwing her way. He leaned in to nuzzle her neck, taking in the scent of flowers and fresh air that always seemed to linger. She laughed, squealing to get away from the roughness of his stubble and sighing with delight when he pinned her down and kissed her.

_Perhaps its really, truly is this easy._

**Author's Note:**

> I meant to stay at somewhat in order with Linette's series, but this came out of no where and wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it. I'm always so nervous writing any character that isn't my own because they all have such specific voices. The last thing I want to do is butcher Dorian's or Cullen's (or any other character's) voice. 
> 
> Bumped it up to mature rating cause you know, naked Trevelyan.


End file.
